


Harry Potter And The Mysteries Of The Ministry: The Cursed Office

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror!Draco, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Comfort, Creature Fic, Curses, DMLE, Discrimination, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Mates, Pining, Solving Mysteries, Veela!Draco, auror!Harry, comfort with touch, department mystery, hexes, incorrigible arseholes, lots of fluff, mating calls, past cmc worker harry, veela expert!harry, war references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23393770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: After Harry transferred from the Control Of Magical Creatures department to the DMLE, he's much happier. Enter Draco Malfoy, who is also a Veela, with whom something is definitely up and just like that, Harry's got a brand new mystery on his hands. A mystery he intends to solve, no matter what.//Completed//Word count: 10.1k
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 530





	Harry Potter And The Mysteries Of The Ministry: The Cursed Office

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheReadingWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReadingWriter/gifts).



> this fic wouldn't be here without the support of my wonderful friend lia, who apparently lives for a good creature fic (can you blame her they are absolutely *amazing*), so i must dedicate it to her to show my gratitude :3
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it!  
> much love,  
> evie~

Harry knew he'd made the right decision about a month after he transferred from the Control Of Magical Creatures department to the DMLE.

He enjoyed his work as an Auror far more than he ever did his work in the CMC. That's not to say he didn't absolutely _love_ studying Veelas, Inferi, Graphorns and other magical beasts, it had just grown...repetitive after a while. Dull. He didn't like repetition, it wore him down, so he put in his resignation and applied for training for the Aurors, finding the very energetic, new tempo much more satisfactory.

Plus, Ron was Head Auror, so it was all the more fun.

Harry was in a good mood when he'd arrived to work that morning. He got along well with his partner, Zach was a good guy, and he genuinely enjoyed the job. It was odd having to face Malfoy again, who also worked for the DMLE, even odder was the fact Malfoy was a Veela, that his entire family line were Veelas, but Harry found he didn't really mind since Malfoy mostly stayed out of his way. He stayed out of everyone's way really. He didn't even have a partner, was the only Auror who worked solo. Apparently, too many thought it acceptable to _have some fun_ when partnered with him and Ron had been forced to put a stop to that somehow. 

As much as Ron _loathed_ to admit it, Malfoy was bloody good, and the DMLE couldn't afford to lose him.

Harry's good mood vanished however, when he walked onto the floor and found about two dozen of his colleagues huddled around something, whispers and murmurs tapering between them. What was that all about? As Harry approached and pushed his way through to the front, his blood ran ice-cold.

At first, all Harry's eyes were able to register were bloodied feathers. A _lot_ of bloodied feathers. Then, he realized that amongst the shivering mass of blood tipped feathers was a person plastered to the wall, as if trying to merge themselves with it.

And not just any person, Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy's breathing was quick and shallow, and his robes were torn at his shoulders, held up only by his arms pressed to his chest as he remained glued to the wall behind him. His shoulders were coming in and the seemingly infinite amount of feathers was tearing and molting out from the wings springing from his back. His eyes were wide and unfocused and he was trembling.

Harry's heart twisted and he whirled around searching for Ron, who was attempting, and failing miserably to push everyone back and get them to stop fucking staring. 

"What the fuck happened?" Harry hissed under his breath when he managed to pick Ron out of the throng of bodies.

Ron looked at him beseechingly:

"The other guys are still—you know, mad about—about the war and they were poking him and calling names and sneering, laughing, mocking—I tried everything Harry! Tried to threaten their pay, their jobs, threatened with desk duty—Nothing! And he bore it well while he could but then—then someone grabbed his arm—his left arm and—pushed up his sleeve to make fun—And then there was a flurry and yelling and gasping, and this is how it's been for the past half hour!"

Ron's voice was shaky, as if he was at the end of his tether. And who wouldn't be? This was his job here that had gotten wildly out of control. _Bloody hell—_

Harry couldn't be arsed about that though. Malfoy was a Veela, an extremely stressed Veela that had started to molt and lose his feathers forcefully. They were tearing out and falling out so jerkily that they drew blood with them. This state was extremely dangerous for any Veela to be in, the could end up comatose or even _dead_.

Bloody hell, Harry couldn't imagine Malfoy dead.

It was too dark a thought to bear, even if Harry never really got the chance to get to know Malfoy as he actually was, neither before nor after the war. Well, what he lacked in interactions and conversation, Harry most certainly made up for in staring and observing.

Because yes, Harry still sought Malfoy out in a room even all these years after Hogwarts, and though part of it could be Malfoy's natural Veela allure, Harry knew that a larger part of it was himself, and his ever present constant urge to know everything there was to know about Draco sodding Malfoy.

And his staring and observing had lead him down a rabbit hole he couldn't crawl out from—ultimately, Harry had a proper crush.

So no, he couldn't bear the thought of Malfoy dead.

"I'll handle him." Harry muttered to Ron and pushed through the crowd until he was out front, his gaze locked on Malfoy, who seemed unable to discern any of his surroundings. 

"Draco." Harry's voice broke the whispers and murmurs, solemn and gentle as it was. He needed to break through to Malfoy, needed Malfoy to focus only on him so that he could start settling him down. He'd only ever experienced two situations where he had to console an extremely stressed Veela in his time as a CMC agent—but it had never been quite this bad before. "It's Harry—Potter."

Malfoy's eyes darted around when he heard his name, and Harry was extremely glad to find he was cognizant enough to hear and recognize words, his own name. 

Harry took another step closer.

"Focus on my voice." Harry prompted, because he needed to first ground Malfoy before he attempted to approach and console him with physical touch. People tended to think of Veelas as cruel, birdlike wretches, but they were possibly the most sensitive and gentle magical creatures out there, only beaten by unicorns, so a friendly touch went a long way in calming one down.

"I won't hurt you." Harry promised, and to prove it, he slowly drew his wand, no intent in his movements. Malfoy flinched anyways but Harry only knelt down and placed his wand on the ground before Malfoy's feet.

"I'll move a bit closer, I won't touch you." Harry spoke as he straightened. He could feel that all eyes were on him, but he was focused on his mission. When Veelas were very stressed, their eyesight became blurry and hazy, it was extremely important to talk one through what you're doing and what you're going to do so as to not freak them out even more. 

Harry took a few steps closer, until he was within arm's reach and stopped. He needed to allow Malfoy to recognize his presence there with both scent and sound, since Harry was sure that Malfoy couldn't quite see him properly yet.

After a silent minute, during which Harry never stopped murmuring softly under his breath, nothing in particular, just Potion ingredients, just something to keep Malfoy's mind trained on him and engaged, he began moving closer again, noting that Malfoy didn't flinch. That was a good sign, a very good sign.

Once Harry was standing directly in front of the blonde, he took the chance to study his body language closer.

He was still shaking, and wide eyed—but his vision appeared more centered, though Harry didn't hedge his bets on that yet. 

He couldn't waste time now, timing was always imperative in cases like this one. 

Slowly, so Malfoy could always see what he was doing, Harry lifted his hand and hovered it closer towards the blonde. As he made to brush away Malfoy's fringe from his eyes, his fingers made contact with Malfoy's forehead and Harry stifled a gasp.

Just as he'd suspected—the skin was cold, his blood wasn't circulating properly. 

Malfoy intook a sharp breath at the touch, only staring ahead of himself.

Harry didn't stop. As he moved Malfoy's fringe away, he allowed his hand to slip deeper into the blonde hair, fingers combing out the knots until his palm rested loosely on the back of Malfoy's neck. He traced a circle there with his thumb, bringing his other hand to try to right Malfoy's torn robes somewhat so he wouldn't feel too exposed and vulnerable.

"You're good." Harry praised, pleased to find that Malfoy had stopped shaking like a bloody leaf now. "Doing great."

Malfoy's eyelids fluttered, he seemed able to focus now, seemed to really see Harry in front of him, and Harry breathed a subtle sigh of relief. The immediacy of the situation had been rectified, but Harry still couldn't leave. He had Malfoy's wings and feathers to take care of, they'd gotten mangled and bloody and plenty have fallen out. It was important to fold his wings against his back so they'd have the solid form of Malfoy's body to rest their weight on and therefore hurt him less.

Now, touching a Veela's wings was an honor a Veela only permitted their mate or a Healer if the need was dire. Anyone else that tries never ends up having a good time, but currently the need was dire so Harry had no choice but to brave it.

He cupped Malfoy's face in both his hands as he spoke, because it was very important that Malfoy give him a clear response to the question:

"Your wings, may I?" He kept his voice low and quiet, because no one else getting a free show had to know any more than they already did.

Malfoy stared straight at Harry, eyes molten pools of silver when he nodded slowly. 

Harry couldn't hide his smile as he slid his hands away from Malfoy's face and over his shoulders, until the tips of his fingers were brushing the point where the cartilage of the wings melded with Malfoy's back. 

Since his wings were forced out from stress, it must have been violent and painful, as Harry was able to confirm by the slow wince that overtook Malfoy as he ghosted around the area.

Harry went slow. He cupped his hands over the first part that carved out of the blonde's back, and gently pressed, because he needed to align them to a proper position to fold. He was surprised when Malfoy didn't flinch or wince, he seemed to just close his eyes and breathe deeply. At least he isn't in pain, Harry mused as he slid both his hands outwards at the same time, following the curve and bend of each wing, smoothing down the feathers as he went, righting them and untwisting them where they mangled. When he was at the point he needed to be, Harry applied some pressure, allowing the wings themselves to do most of the work and fold against Malfoy's back. When they were secure and tucked away, Harry dropped his hands to his sides, not one to push his luck any further than necessary.

Harry quickly assessed his body language once more. He wasn't shaking, his eyes were focused and calm, he wasn't molting and he'd peeled away from the wall. His arms were still loosely curled against his chest, but his entire posture lost the tremble and taut strain. 

_Bloody hell_ was Harry relieved _._

Confident that Malfoy would be alright now, Harry gave him a nod and a smile, and took a step back, but was surprised to hear a small, incredibly alarmed chirp blubber out of Malfoy as he took half a step forwards. Harry stopped.

Malfoy's eyes had gone wide again, one of his hands curled away from himself to sort of reach, as if he was reaching for something. Or someone. For Harry.

Harry had never experienced that before. Usually Veelas were glad to be left alone for a while after Harry calmed them down, exhausted after the harrowing experience. Never before had one looked as terrified of Harry leaving as Malfoy appeared to be. 

Unsure of what else to do, Harry lifted his arms from his sides, opening his posture to see what it was that Malfoy would do. 

Malfoy took another step towards Harry, until he was bodily pressed into him and dropped his head to the crook of Harry's neck. His nose was cold on Harry's skin, but Harry didn't dare move.

Confused though he was, since he'd never seen this before, Harry still closed his arms around Malfoy's form, splaying his palms on the space between his wings and trying not to put too much pressure, since he knew how fragile Veela's wings were despite their enormous strength, he did _not_ want to break anything.

Malfoy just curled into him more though, and just breathed against him, and Harry let him. There was little else he could do but wait it out and hold him. Who knew how much shit he'd endured before Harry arrived? Besides, Harry would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy hugging Draco.

Everyone was still gathered round and staring, and Harry had a half mind to shoot a collective Stinging hex to their balls, but he refrained. Incapacitating nearly half of the DMLE would be bad for business, no matter how much they may deserve it. And they deserved it well and proper, make no mistake of that.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Harry felt Malfoy grow heavy and limp against him, and was worried for a moment that something had happened, when he realized Malfoy had fallen asleep.

He'd fucking fallen asleep. Standing upright. Leaning against Harry.

He'd _fallen asleep!_

Sighing fondly, Harry picked him up best he could, trying his best to not jostle him around too much. He turned around to face the still gaping crowd and scowled darkly at all of them, instead focusing on Ron.

"Where's his office?" He asked and Ron, who looked just as flabbergasted as the rest of them, pointed it out with an unsteady hand.

Harry nodded and carried Malfoy to his office and deposited him on the couch each office had so the Aurors could take a bit of a break every so often. It was imperative that Malfoy rests now. Feeling kind of shaky from seeing the unpinched, gentle expression on the blonde's face as he slept, Harry scribbled him a quick note and hastily left.

As he walked back out into the hallway, he came face to face with Ron, who was dispersing the others back to their own offices.

"Let him sleep. Do _not_ wake him up until he wakes up himself." Harry informed his best friend.

"Mate! Thank you—How did you manage that? None of us could approach him!" Ron rounded on him, looking for all the world as if he'd been dying to get answers.

"I've worked with stressed Veelas before. Let me assure you, this was no joke. He could've _died."_ Harry pointedly impressed upon Ron who just nodded hurriedly:

"Right. I won't wake him. What if he sleeps past getting off though? I can't leave him here just to sleep."

Harry waved it off:

"I'll stay if that happens. Surely you can find some extra paperwork to pile on me if you need an excuse."

Ron nodded sheepishly:

"Alright. Thanks for handling it, heh..."

Harry shrugged it off and returned to his office to try and get at least _some_ work done while pointedly ignoring and scowling at anyone who tried to approach him. 

~

Needless to say, Harry got absolutely nothing done for the rest of the day, as he was sure was the case with everyone else.

The entire floor was abuzz with what had transpired between him and Malfoy and Harry seriously regretted not Stinging everyone's bollocks off when he had the chance. 

Zach was squirming at his desk, it was plain he was _dying_ to ask something and finally when the fidgeting and squirming ate Harry's last nerve, he snapped:

"Out with it."

"How did you do it?" Zach immediately sprung up like a bullet, and Harry sighed, but indulged his partner anyways:

"I worked for the CMC before I came here, you know that. I've handled stressed Veelas before, that was all it was."

Zach's answer surprised Harry:

"We actually called in a CMC agent before you arrived to work, late as always, and she couldn't come within three feet of Malfoy."

"How do you mean?" Harry's brow furrowed as he asked. 

"I mean, Malfoy would bat his, err, wings and hiss and shriek until she backed away. You're the only one that's managed to even approach him—let alone everything else you did."

Suddenly everyone's slack shock made so much more sense.

Harry leaned back in his chair as he considered this. Why would Malfoy only let him come close? When he'd dealt with Veelas before...what was the difference this time?

"Huh, I see..." Harry mused on a hum as he attempted to make sense of this.

"Yeah, so, how'd you do it?" Zach pressed, eyes alight with interest.

Harry shrugged and waved it off, didn't really want to get into the discussion:

"Just did what I always used to do.."

Zach seemed disappointed but sensed the note of finality in Harry's voice and smartly dropped the subject.

~

When Draco woke up he felt extremely groggy and incredibly confused. When had he fallen asleep? Where the fresh hell was he? Blinking around and slowly sitting up, he realized two things:

1\. He was in his office.

2\. His back hurt like a bitch.

It was only after a few minutes of staring dumbly at the wall that he remembered everything that had happened and— _fuck._

_Potter._

Potter had stepped out of the cohort of those sniveling baboons, because _of course_ he had.

_Of course._

_Of course_ he'd approach and talk all sweet and soft and pet Draco's hair and praise him and hug him and hold him, the stupid loathsome chivalrous _bastard._

And _now,_ Draco had no _idea_ what to do with the memories of Potter's hands on him. Through his hair, petting his wings, arms around him—a burning fire, intoxicating and all encompassing. 

_Fuck._

Draco shook his head and stood up to stretch, trying to alleviate the pain from his back. It happened sometimes when his wings pulled his muscles too taut.

As he stretched, he noticed there was a note on his desk. He picked it up and immediately recognized the sloppy handwriting.

_'Hey Malfoy,_

_I hope you feel better when you wake up._

_P.'_

Draco absolutely _refused_ to acknowledge the cartwheels in his stomach. Instead he stared down at the note and turned it over and over, chewing on his lip all the while. Draco hated himself but he shoved the note into his pocket all the same. He took a deep breath to clear his head but then violently lurched to a complete _stop._

There was a lingering scent in the air.

Oh _fuck.._

Draco pulled Potter's note out of his pocket and sniffed it to confirm his suspicions and _oh yeah, it was him._ Except Potter's smell on the note was much stronger than in the air, and hit Draco's entire body like a fucking Bludger. It smelled like pine and treacle tart and apples—he was half hard just from the scent alone.

Draco whimpered and balled up the note into his fist, suddenly dizzy.

He sat down behind his desk and sighed.

This was ridiculous.

What time even was it?

Casting a quick tempus, Draco was shocked to find it two hours after work ends. Was he left alone here? Did Weasley just—abandon him overnight?

Was he locked in?

His stomach twisted as he left his office to see if his hunch was correct. He stepped out into a dark hallway, so the place was definitely closed, but there was a light coming from one other office, so it would appear as if he wasn't alone after all.

Draco wasn't sure who in their right mind would stay so late after hours, but he hoped it wasn't someone itching for a fight, because he hadn't the faculties required for a duel.

He made his way to the open office and peered inside. He froze. It was Potter. _Lovely._

He was splayed across his desk, asleep. 

Draco watched, he couldn't help himself. He stared until he noticed something off about Potter's face. There was an angry red blotched welt across his cheek. Like a...like a Stinging hex...Draco had received a fair share of those in his time, he knew perhaps too well what they looked like.

Who the fuck had the bright idea to hit Harry bloody Potter with a Stinging hex?

That was the equivalent of a death wish, Draco mused as he stood in the doorway. Should he go in? He wanted to see how big the damage was, he was horrified to find himself worried about Potter. Well, Potter _was_ sleeping...He won't know..

So Draco stepped in and made his way towards Potter's desk, all too aware that this was a dumb idea. 

He reached out and tilted Potter's head, definitely did _not_ brush through his hair, and was horrified to find that the welt stretched from his cheek and over his ear too.

Who the fuck—!

Then Potter stirred and Draco immediately startled and stepped back, glancing to the door and trying to quickly calculate how quickly he could run down the hall to his own office. It turned out that it was all a moot point as Potter roused quickly and warily from his slumber. 

He was on his feet and had his wand in hand, pointed at Draco before Draco could blink. 

Then he seemed to recognize Draco and put it away:

"Oh. Hi Malfoy." He murmured and Draco just nodded, unsure what exactly he was supposed to do with a sleep rumpled Potter. "D'you feel better?"

Potter rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and winced when he pressed into the welt too hard, before directing the question at Draco.

"Yes, I'm fine." Draco deigned to reply, and refused to flush.

Potter just nodded and sat down again:

"Good. That's good...I asked Ron to let me stay behind, didn't want to wake you..." He was rambling in his still not quite cognizant state, a yawn interrupting his sentence. He looked about ready to collapse again and Draco had to do something to ignore how his heart skipped a beat. So he insulted him:

"Potter! Don't fall asleep here, go home you giant oaf." 

Potter startled when Draco spoke, perhaps a bit louder than necessary, but that was fine.

"Oh yea...We should go home..." Potter agreed easily and stood up, eyes still droopy and face slack.

He wobbled out around his desk and then stumbled over his own clumsy feet and would've went sprawling flat onto his nose had Draco not shot out to catch him.

"Oh you idiot, don't you sleep at night like other normal people?" Draco chided as he righted Potter, but Potter just shrugged:

"Don't sleep well..wake up tired..is fine.."

It was most definitely _not_ fine, but Draco didn't argue. He had to get the fool home because if he let him go off by himself he'd probably end up in a ditch somewhere.

All of this was a terrible, terrible idea.

"Where do you live?" Draco asked, resigning himself to the torment. 

Potter rambled off some address under his breath and Draco just hoped it was the correct one, because he did not know what he would do if he ended up in some stranger's house holding a delirious sleep deprived Harry Potter in the middle of the night.

They made it to the Floo, and Draco pulled Potter in, grabbed the powder and prayed to the powers that be that this doesn't end in spectacular failure.

~

The powers that be did not like Draco.

Because the address Potter had given him was not his own, it was Weasley and Granger's address.

Draco was in Weasley's living room, holding a still sleepy Potter, with two wands pointed at him as he coughed from the dust.

"I just wanted to take the blithering idiot home—this is the address he gave me. Just take him and I'll leave." Draco hastened to explain before he got his arse hexed off.

Weasley and Granger, still in their pyjamas, lowered their wands and sighed deeply:

"Bloody hell Malfoy, you scared the shit out of us." Weasley muttered as he pulled Harry towards him. "Thanks for err, bringing him here."

Draco just nodded and turned around to leave when:

"...Are you okay Malfoy?" Weasley's voice was tentative.

Draco tensed and gritted his teeth. He was bloody _fine—_ he'd have been fine even if Potter hadn't felt the need to meddle! Well, that was a bloody lie if Draco had ever told one, but he rather preferred it to the truth, so.

"I'm fine, Weasley." He responded, though he didn't turn around. "The buffoon made sure of it." 

"I'll tell him you said thanks...in your own, weird, roundabout way." Weasley snorted.

Draco rolled his eyes and stepped into the fireplace, when Granger gasped in horror:

"His face! What happened to him?"

"There's nothing wrong with me face.." Potter mumbled, leaning heavily on Weasley.

"Don't know. I found him like that." Draco replied, attempting to appear neutral even though he was actually quite furious at whoever had the nerve.

"It was Finch-Fletchley. He's worked with the DMLE the longest, and was mad Harry helped Malfoy, so he hexed him." Weasley's face darkened. "Harry didn't retaliate but he did go off screaming about..." Weasley's gaze flickered to Draco. "...how it takes more than a tattoo to make someone a Death Eater and how he didn't fight the fucking war for this. In the end I suspended Justin for the rest of the day and shoved Harry into his office."

Draco grabbed the powder and disappeared before either of them could see his wrecked expression.

~

Harry woke up to someone shaking him awake. When he opened his eyes he managed to make out a lot of ginger, before realizing it was most likely Ron.

"Harry! Wake up, mate, we're going to be late for work! I am literally the boss, I can not be late for work!"

Harry shook his head to clear it of the fog and sat up:

"Why am I at yours?"

Ron snorted as he put his uniform on:

"Malfoy brought you here last night."

Harry stopped and stared blankly at Ron:

"Malfoy...? Brought me here...?"

Ron nodded and tossed Harry's robes to him:

"You stayed behind last night with him right, and probably fell asleep. He wanted to take you home but you gave him my address."

Harry nodded while he dressed:

"Ah, I see. Alright. Was he okay?"

Ron rolled his eyes:

"He was fine. He said 'thanks'...sort of?"

Harry snorted:

"Sort of? What did he say?"

Ron made for the Fireplace. Usually, the DMLE kept the Floo locked and warded, but the Aurors were keyed into the wards. He did his best to imitate Malfoy's poncy accent as he answered:

"He said 'I'm fine, Weasley. The buffoon made sure of it.'"

Harry laughed:

"Sounds about right."

Just as they were about to leave, Hermione came bustling out of the kitchen:

"Harry wait!" She approached, holding a tiny tin of something. When she was right in front of him she dipped her fingers into the tin and then gently smeared some salve over the hex on Harry's cheek and ear. Healing charms left the skin dry and knitted, so everyone treated Stinging hexes the Muggle way.

Harry winced slightly as her fingers worked over the sting, but he was grateful to her either way. He'd completely forgotten about that. That arsehole Justin—Harry shook his head. It wasn't worth dwelling on.

"Thank you Mione. I'm fine though." Harry smiled at her and she just huffed and stepped away:

 _"Someone_ has to take care of you."

Harry chuckled alongside Ron, and they left for work.

~

When they arrived, quite the scene greeted them.

Harry could see Ron slump in defeat as the knowledge he had to handle this shit as Head of the floor dawned upon him.

There was Justin sitting on the floor, with his partner trying to coax him to stand up, something he was vehemently refusing to do.

With a deep sigh, Ron dragged Harry over.

"What's going on here?" The redhead asked in what he must have thought was an authoritative tone, but actually just sounded like he was chiding small children. Though, Harry figured, that wasn't so far from the truth either.

"He can't walk, he's been tripping since he came in here, now he just refuses to stand." Justin's partner, Hannah, explained.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the bastard's plight.

"What do you mean, he can't walk, you were perfectly fine yesterday!" Ron pointed out, pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I mean whenever I try to take a proper step, I trip over _nothing_ and fall on my arse. I think I've been jinxed!" Justin waved his arms around from the floor.

Hannah sighed:

"Oh come on Justin, just _who_ would jinx you? We aren't children anymore—the Tripping jinx is for babies."

Harry arched an eyebrow at that. The girl had a point. Harry looked around and found one particular blonde standing by the coffee maker, beautifully pretending that he had nothing to do with this. 

_Hm._

Harry couldn't help but chortle under his breath, and quietly extricated himself from the group to make his way over to Malfoy.

"Awh, so he has a heart after all." Harry chuckled when Malfoy shot him a narrow glare:

"I have no idea what you're talking about Potter."

"Jinxing your colleagues won't help your image, you know." Harry pointed out when he was next to him.

Malfoy just kept glaring at Harry:

"What makes you think I jinxed him?" 

Harry couldn't help but laugh:

"Oh _please,_ this has _you_ written all over it."

Malfoy crossed his arms across his chest:

"It most certainly does _not,_ Potter. What reason would I even have to jinx Finch-Fletchley?"

Harry tilted his head:

"Do you want me to answer that or would you rather I pretend I don't know the answer?"

Malfoy's glare hardened, though the tips of his ears flushed red:

"Sod off Potter."

Harry laughed again, but didn't push it. Instead he turned to watch the situation unfold. Curiously, Malfoy didn't move away, they fell into a companionable silence next to each other. Currently, Ron was attempting to drag Justin by his arm, and Justin was struggling against it. Eventually, Ron overpowered Justin and managed to drag him to his feet. Then there was the whole other beast of trying to force Justin to actually take a step, because no one believed that he was jinxed.

Harry was extremely amused, especially because he knew the truth. He felt in on the joke, and it was doing wonders to quell his vengeful thoughts for the Stinger his face took.

Finally, Justin snapped that he would prove to them all that he _was_ jinxed, and he took a step—upon which he immediately staggered, tripped, and fell.

Harry was surprised to hear Malfoy snickering next to him and he couldn't help but join in. 

That drew attention to them though, and suddenly four or five glares were directed at Malfoy. 

_Oh, for fuck's sake—_ Harry grouched.— _Haven't they learned their lesson yesterday?_

"What are you laughing at, Death Eater?" Justin snarled, and drew his wand. Malfoy just arched a challenging eyebrow.

"Justin put your wand down and stop picking a fight with Malfoy. He didn't do anything." Ron rolled his eyes and pushed Justin's wand arm down.

"Oh he did plenty—" Justin started again, but Ron was having none of it:

"No, he did not."

Hannah rolled her eyes:

"The scum's not worth it, Justin. We don't need this right now." 

Malfoy pushed away and disappeared down the hallway and into his office before Harry could take a breath.

"See? Coward's running. Typical murderous—" Justin started but Ron cut him off again:

"That's _enough_. Get the jinx off of yourself and then everyone back to work." He called louder and sighed, trudging over to Harry.

"I shouldn't have taken that promotion..." He whined.

Harry patted his back sympathetically:

"You're doing good- _ish."_

"Wow, thanks mate." Ron took it in stride and went to his own office.

Harry briefly wondered if he should go after Malfoy, then realized how stupid he was being. He wasn't Malfoy's mother, he had no business fretting over him, besides, Malfoy could take care of himself.

With that in mind he retreated to his own office, focusing on the latest case he and Zach were on.

~

It was a few hours later that there was a knock on their office door. Harry looked up from the file he was reading and Zach stood up to open the door. Harry couldn't see who was standing there, but he could hear the conversation:

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

"Potter—I need to speak to him—"

Oh. Harry stood up from his desk with furrowed brows and looked at Malfoy over Zach's shoulder. His heart froze for a moment when he realized that Malfoy looked panicked. Wide eyes, tremors going through his hands. Did...something happen again? 

"I'll be right back Zach, just see what he wants." Harry squeezed past his partner and grabbed Malfoy's shoulder, started pulling him down the hall towards his office, but Malfoy bristled away from it, which was...odd, but Harry didn't dwell on it and instead rounded off into the bathroom and tossed a quick locking charm once they were inside.

Malfoy breathing came in short pants, and Harry needed to stop him before he got stressed enough to start molting again, because after yesterday, it was important he doesn't fall under that sort of duress again for a little while.

Harry couldn't quite tell how he'd become a nanny for a Veela, but he supposed he could live with it as long as that Veela was Draco Malfoy.

"Draco, look at me, keep your eyes on me c'mon." Harry instructed, drawing Malfoy's attention to himself. Once Malfoy's eyes were on him, Harry stepped closer. He grabbed Malfoy's hands and linked their fingers. Malfoy squeezed Harry's hand, and Harry stayed silent until Malfoy had calmed down.

Harry wanted to ask what had happened, because by now he was _certain_ _something_ was happening but at the same time, he didn't want to prod and didn't think Malfoy needed to rehash it. So Harry kept his mouth shut, and just nodded at Malfoy when Malfoy stepped away.

"Are you good to go back?" Harry finally spoke.

Malfoy was staring at him with this beseeching expression that Harry couldn't quite decipher, but then the moment broke and he nodded so they left the bathroom.

_Something was happening, definitely._

_~_

This was the second month that shit in his office has been attempting to drive him insane, Draco grouched as he shot a Silencio at his inkwell, which was currently shouting at him that he should be rotting away in Azkaban.

The first time it happened nearly two months ago, his quill hopped away from him each time he reached for it, grumbling how it did not want to be used by a Death Eater.

The second time it happened, his chair slid out of the way when he attempted to sit on it, shrieking how he didn't deserve his freedom.

After the third time, when a litany of folders attacked him and smacked him around, he called Robards in to inspect his office for all the curses and jinxes that were undoubtedly placed on all of his things.

However, whoever had placed them was a clever bastard. The _moment_ Robards had walked into his office, everything that had previously tormented Draco stopped reacting to any touch or provocation. It was as if the curses sensed another person's magic and went completely docile.

Of course, Robards waved his complaint off and left.

And everything came alive again and continued to bully him.

Draco had all but given up after a week of trying every spell he knew to remove and dismantle curses and jinxes, and none of it bloody working. He resigned to having to deal with it. 

After a while, he'd almost grown used to it, able to tune it out most of the time. 

There'd come a day once in a while where it'd grow to be too much though, like today for example. 

_Everything_ he touched had a bone to pick with him, the cacophony of hateful and angry yelling culminating in a massive headache and an urgent need to get out.

Draco held out long as he could, but there were only so many stabs at his unsavory past that he could take before he was _done_ and running out of his own bloody office to get away.

His body walked him along of its own accord towards a door Draco didn't recognize until it was too late and he'd already knocked.

_For fucks's sake—_

Smith opened and looked confused to find him there, almost as much as Draco himself was.

"Potter—I need to speak with him—" He heard himself say.

~

"Ron, I need to talk to you." Harry sauntered into Ron's office as if he owned it. 

Ron looked up and placed his quill down:

"Alright mate."

Harry sat down and chewed on his lip for a moment before he started talking:

"Something's going on with Malfoy."

Ron sighed:

"Harry, I know things haven't been pretty, but—"

"No, Ron, something _is_ happening, I can feel it. He came to my office today, he was panicked again. And I went out to lead him back to his and calm him down, but he pulled away. Like he...like he didn't want to go in. There's _got_ to be something there." Harry interrupted, insisting.

Ron ran a hand through his hair:

"And what do you want me to do Harry? I can't barge into his office to search it, I can't accuse anyone of anything without any proof. Believe me I don't like to see how much shit Malfoy gets either, all my grumbling aside, he's one of the best here, but you know as well as I do everything has to be official."

Harry grit his teeth. _Dammit!_

"Can't you just...say it's a routine check-up or something..?" 

Ron dropped his head:

"Harry, you know I can't do that. This is my job here, I can't abuse it, I'm sorry."

The raven sighed but nodded dejectedly.

He'd figure this out on his own then, consequences be damned.

~

Since the bathroom incident, Draco was staunchly determined to keep his distance from Potter. He would _not_ let himself run to the bastard each time he was unwell, no matter how much he might crave his touches. His instincts pulling him towards Potter could very well fuck off because Draco would. not. cave.

He'd been fine before Potter transferred to the DMLE, and he'd be fine now too.

So Draco resorted to avoiding the raven man like the plague. He figured Potter wouldn't even notice because it wasn't as if they ever talked on a regular basis, but apparently, Potter _did_ notice, because Draco could more often than not smell him standing right outside his office, doing Merlin knows what. 

It was annoying, because he smelled _really_ fucking good.

And he'd just hang out around the door for sometimes up to an hour, just...standing there, presumably doing nothing. Draco never opened the door to confront him, mainly because he didn't exactly trust himself not to jump him then and there.

Whatever it was that Potter was doing, Draco couldn't be bothered with, as long as Potter didn't attempt to talk to him or Heavens forbid, befriend him. 

What Draco had not accounted for in his brilliant pretend—Potter—doesn't—exist scheme is how miserable he'd make himself. 

Oh well. 

Sacrifices must be made.

~

Harry was _determined_ to figure out what's going on with Malfoy, no matter the fact he's had very little success snooping around his office. It was creepy, but something was wrong and no one was doing anything about it, and Harry couldn't watch the blonde suffer.

Speaking of, said blonde was avoiding him. Harry wasn't surprised, but this was so blatant and cold that he was caught off guard. Either way, he could think about that later, he needed to figure out what was going on first.

Sometimes, while he prowled around outside Draco's office, he felt ridiculous, like a schoolboy following his crush around. The fact that all but the 'schoolboy' part of that sentence were actually true only made it worse. But Harry couldn't help himself. Especially after his recent interactions with Draco, it only made Harry fall for him more.

He wanted to protect him and take care of him, and that's why he needed to find out the truth.

As Harry paid more attention, he noticed Draco was pretty much never in his office. He was either grabbing tea, or coffee, or going to the loos, or sitting in the corner of the breakroom with files—the only time he really spent in his own office was at the start of the day and maybe an hour or two by the end—Harry knew, because he sniffed around right outside during those times, trying to figure out _what_ was wrong with Draco's office, because between the bathroom incident and all of this new information, Harry was 100% convinced that something was up with it.

Perhaps someone tampered with it in some way? Cursed it? It wasn't unheard of.

While he worked for the CMC, it was quite a regular occurrence for your co-workers to hex your office so it would smell of hippogriff dung, or curse it so that everything you touch would screech like a Kneazle giving birth for a prank. But of course, those were just harmless pranks, they'd lift the spells after a bit of taking the piss.

Something was telling Harry that whoever had screwed with Draco's office wasn't doing it lightheartedly.

With that in mind, Harry needed to figure out a way to confirm his theory—and sitting back in his chair during lunch break, with unbuttoned robes and a coffee cup by his side while he lazily watched his colleagues—the perfect idea struck him.

Harry couldn't keep his smile off his face as he sipped his coffee, feeling victorious already. Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself, but it was the first step in getting to the bottom of the situation.

Yes, he knew he was being obsessive and nosy—are you honestly surprised anymore? This _is_ Draco Malfoy we're talking about here after all.

As he stretched in his chair like a lazy cat, content as could be, Harry felt a shiver pass through him, as if there was someone watching him. There was more to it though. There was a certain chill to the feeling, a cold urge to turn around and search out whoever was staring. Harry's brows furrowed, he didn't turn. Goosebumps arose on his skin as the touch of cold lingered—and then it grew scorching hot for a split second, enough to make Harry flinch. In the wake of the spark buzzed a quiet, low pitched hum, a beckoning. He still didn't turn, feeling rooted to his seat as he carefully made sure no one else heard the hum. If what he thought was happening was actually happening... _Fuck._ He slowly shifted in his seat, doing his best to appear as inconspicuous as possible as his eyes searched out Draco, who appeared to be staring right back. Harry didn't hold the eye contact, his suspicions already confirmed. He felt glued to his chair as the implications of all of this slowly sunk in.

This had happened to him a fair few times in his previous department. They'd receive a call to the scene on a supposed Veela emergency, when in fact all the Veela wanted was to offer to be Harry's mate.

He'd suffered more than a few of Veela mating calls in his time, it had gotten to the point that he could identify one immediately—it made his skin prickle with discomfort. In fact, it happened often enough that Harry had devoted most of his time to studying Veelas and everything related, trying to see how to best go about it, the gentlest way to reject the call without hurting their feelings too badly.

He'd become the Veela expert of the department.

But _now_...The only Veela in the DMLE was Draco...

Was he even aware he was emitting the call? Harry knew it was possible that, though in most cases, Veela were very conscious of the fact they're offering to be a mate, like it happened to Harry, sometimes, the Veela wouldn't consciously make the decision, it would happen of its own accord with the person they wanted.

But then that would mean that Draco wanted Harry, which didn't seem very likely. He acted like Harry didn't even exist, deigning to spend as little time as possible in the same room. Yet, there was no other way to explain the call, whether it was done consciously or not.

Harry felt lightheaded from the thought his feelings might be returned. Draco had to like him at least _a little,_ to offer to be Harry's mate. To call to Harry. 

And as much as Harry wanted to believe it was conscious, he was aware that it likely wasn't—because Draco Malfoy was too prideful and careful to ever stoop to such a thing.

It was up to Harry now. To accept or reject the offer. Harry wanted to hoot with joy until he was breathless at the prospect of being loved by Draco, _of course_ he'd accept, however, the mate business would have to wait until _after_ he'd solved the current—

OH! HOLY SHIT—

That was _it!_

It had only hit Harry then, while he was thinking about mating and mating calls that the difference between his two cases and the situation with Draco was exactly that—mates. On both of his cases, he'd had to calm hysterical Veelas who'd just lost their mates. They had no one to center on, it didn't matter to them anymore who approached them or touched them. It bore no significance since they'd just lost the most important person to them, and little else really mattered in the face of that.

But Draco's hysteria hadn't been caused by the death of his mate, it had been caused by a dozen arseholes attacking him.

And his mate wasn't dead, so he _did_ have someone to center on and allow close.

It had to have been Harry all along, even before the call...even then...

So, _that_ was why Draco didn't allow the CMC agent called in to handle him, but he did let Harry close...

_Holy shit._

_~_

Draco watched Potter over lunch—it's the one thing he can't stop. One thing he could never stop, not when he was a teenager, and not now when he's an adult.

He still had Potter's note in his pocket, and he stuffed a hand into the pocket to grab it, the texture of the parchment giving him something else to focus on except Potter's wide fucking happy grin while he sipped coffee and sat back with unbuttoned robes that revealed more of his skin than Draco was able to keep a coherent head around at any given moment.

 _Fuck,_ but he wanted Potter. _So bad._

Which was _exactly_ why he had to avoid him at all times. Because he _wanted_ Potter to touch him and hold him again, beyond an emergency situation where there is no other solution. Draco wanted Potter to want it, and that was _terrifying,_ and frankly unrealistic for the short period of time that the dynamic between them had changed, yet it happened and burned stronger than anything Draco had ever felt before, it wasn't _fair,_ because Potter wouldn't ever love him that way.

Had to stay away and keep himself in check at all times, because if he didn't, well, he didn't want to know what would happen.

What had already happened was bad enough. The need to go to Potter when there was an issue, because Potter, the scornful bastard, always made it better. He didn't ask, didn't pry, he was just there for anything that Draco needed. Was there to take a Stinging hex to the face for Draco, or stay after hours so Draco could rest— _fucking arsehole._

And Draco was determined to train himself out of feeling tense and wound up for lack of Potter in his day-to-day, he was determined not to need him, to go on like he had before Potter made a reappearance in his life. If he made sure to cut Potter out completely, eventually he'd move on past it and stop going bandy over his green eyes and messy hair and glasses. 

It was rather difficult, of course, to avoid someone when you're simultaneously attempting to spend as little time as possible in your own cursed office, but Draco had to make it work somehow.

His abusive office supplies would break Draco's almost week long record of staying as far away from Potter as possible fairly quickly, as they had once done already, so he had to stay away from them too.

All things considered, Draco figured he was managing pretty well.

~

When Draco arrived to work the next morning, he stopped dead in his tracks. Potter was standing...on a chair...with the rest of the department gathered around him and Weasley attempting to coax him down. But Potter shook Weasley off and cleared his throat:

"Well? Which one of you wankers fucked with my office?" 

Everyone stared at him in utter confusion, including Draco, when his partner Smith spoke up:

"Harry, our office isn't cursed—please get down from there—"

Potter shook his head:

"Maybe _your_ side of the office isn't cursed, but _mine_ is. Things keep coming alive and bloody _attacking_ me and I am _done._ So out with it, which one of you did it?"

Draco couldn't _believe_ what he was hearing. Was it possible that Potter suffered the same fate?

"I won't ask again. These curses or whatever they are are undetectable and I can't bloody lift them myself—so whoever is the culprit will come with me immediately and do it or so help me _Merlin—"_

Smith spoke up before Potter could finish that sentence, looking defeated and guilty:

"It was probably Justin and a few others—It's the same thing we did to Malfoy and—and they told me it was just a prank! That they'd lift it after a day, maybe two—I had no clue they would do it to you too Harry—"

But Potter didn't look shocked or surprised at all. Instead, he smiled the coldest, most dangerous smile Draco has ever seen on him, and pointed his wand straight at Justin:

"Got you."

Absolute silence descended. 

Draco felt as though his brain had malfunctioned.

"Now you're going to go and dispel _everything_ from Malfoy's office, or Head Auror Weasley here will have your job. Remember, we have a confession now." Potter stepped down from the chair, wand still raised and aimed.

Justin and the few others caught in the crossfire just nodded dumbly, completely caught off guard and filed into the hall towards Draco's office.

Potter looked directly at Draco over the crowd, and Draco's stomach dropped. His eyes shined. Potter fucking _knew,_ the bastard _planned_ this.

..... _This_ was why he was snooping around Draco's office...

Oh, _fuck,_ Draco couldn't handle himself. The longer Potter looked at him with that happy glee on his face, the closer Draco came to completely _losing_ it.

Potter had known, he'd _somehow_ figured it out and he went and planned this whole scheme just to expose it and Draco felt weak with how badly he wanted him in the moments the situation was filtering through for what it really was.

He was saved, by Weasley, drawing Potter's attention away. He could breathe for a moment again, get himself sorted. He really needed a breather.

~

Harry looked at Draco as Ron shuffled into the hall with Justin and his lot, flying off the handle at them about what they'd done and how they better undo everything. Draco's face was a picture once he realized this had all been planned, his completely stunned, helplessly wanton expression softening all his jagged edges.

Harry's heart was a melted goop pounding 100 a minute, and he would've run to Draco then and there had Ron not come back storming out and waving his arms around:

"Bloody hell, Harry you were right! There really _was_ something wrong with Malfoy's office! And I admit, I didn't believe you—thought the sixth year Malfoy phase had returned again—but hell, those curses are awful!" Ron was furious and yelling perhaps a bit louder than necessary, but Harry let him blow the steam off. "And I'm his boss too, I'm supposed to be fair with all the Aurors but this—I hadn't even _known_ and I've _seen_ how much shit he gets and honestly—"

"Ron! Calm down, breathe, it's alright. The important thing is that it's sorted now. I can't believe my plan worked, the bastards fell for it, heh. So anyways, what will you do with the lot of them _now_ , that it's all out in the open?" Harry interrupted Ron's rant, and placated his friend.

"Oh I wish I could fire them but I can't just let off half the department. I'll suspend them for some time, dock their pay, but I don't think I can do any more than that." Ron shook his head.

Harry was really proud of Ron for doing his best to remain objective to everyone once he got promoted, able to put aside his history with Draco and be as fair as he was able.

"Why's Malfoy staring at you like that?" Ron muttered to Harry when he seemed to notice the same thing as Harry did a moment earlier. Harry chuckled:

"Would you like the explicit version?"

Ron flushed and jabbed Harry in the shoulder:

"No, nope, _nope,_ I refuse to be a part of this—" Ron kept repeating under his breath as he stormed away to exact punishment on Justin and the rest.

Harry, meanwhile, had one last thing to do before lunch break rolled around.

He took a deep breath and marched right up to Draco.

~

Draco wasn't sure what to do with himself when Harry headed straight for him.

He had even less clue when Harry planted himself right in front of Draco, smiling that stupid beautiful smile.

"Not too sure if you know you did it yesterday, but you called to me." Harry's grin widened.

Draco froze. He...he did..? When the fuck—? Had to have been during the break yesterday, he'd spent all of it staring at Harry, so it was certainly possible he'd called to him at some point without realizing.

"I wanted to solve the issue of the office first before addressing that, and now it's solved." Harry shrugged, looking effortlessly graceful. 

"I accept." Harry looked him dead in the eyes, still smiling. "I accept you to be my mate."

That was all it took to make Draco snap. He'd been teetering on the edge of losing control for _days,_ the only thing holding him back his assumption Harry wouldn't love him in such a way—but Harry _did,_ he accepted the call, and there was nothing able to stop Draco from surging forwards and yanking Harry up by his shirt to kiss him anymore.

So he did exactly that.

~

Harry did not expect a kiss. Rather, he didn't expect such a desperate, unrestrained, frankly violent kiss. 

Not that he particularly minded, he had to admit there was a certain charm to just being taken so freely.

He allowed himself to let go of his own inhibitions and to push back just as passionately as Draco. Harry wrapped both arms around Draco's neck, while Draco practically crushed Harry against himself with how tight of a hold he had on him, and Harry _relished_ in it.

Harry parted his lips when Draco's tongue swept out to push into his mouth and he pressed back just as eagerly, tilting his head so their kiss would deepen. 

Harry inched a hand up Draco's nape to card through his hair, drawing a soft whine out of him. He smiled against Draco's mouth and pressed in for another kiss, gentler this time, softer. Their lips melded against each other, they held one another as they shared themselves.

Harry felt so warm and content, heart thundering with such love and calm, he was so glad to be there, hands tangled in Draco's hair, Draco's arms enclosed around his waist, as they kissed each other senseless.

"Why the _fuck_ is Malfoy _glowing?"_ A beseeched voice startled them into parting.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked a few times into the void until he regained himself enough to look at Draco and....he _really_ was glowing. Actually glowing. A soft golden glow fluttered outwards from him, outlining him like a saint.

In all his years studying Veelas, he never encountered any whom legitimately _glowed._

He was shocked to be faced with something new still.

"I...actually have no idea about that one." Harry turned around to face the owner of the voice, who turned out to be Ron. 

"Take a wild guess, Harry." Draco drawled from just behind him and Harry glanced back to find him smiling softly, head tilted. He looked so... _happy._

_Happy. Oh._

Harry grinned as the answer dawned upon him. He turned back round to Ron:

"Nevermind, I know why he's glowing." 

Ron prompted him to go on with a jerk of his head, and Harry just shrugged:

"Just look at him. You'll figure it out."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed as he looked away from Harry and peered at Draco with narrowed eyes, much resembling Harry when he loses his glasses. 

Draco pressed into Harry from behind and wrapped him up again, as if he just needed to be touching him at all times, wanted to. Harry leaned back into him, practically melting.

He couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten.

Draco buried his face into Harry's hair, and it was then that Ron finally seemed to realize what Harry had been talking about.

"Oh that is so disgustingly corny and sweet—and incredibly accurate, Merlin—just so, so—" He struggled for a word.

"Adorable, man. It's adorable." Zach filled in, rubbing his neck awkwardly but offering a small smile of support either way.

Ron conceded the point with a shrug and a nod.

"So Potter and Malfoy are...together now?" Hannah piped up from where she stood amongst the others Aurors that had inadvertently walked in on their kiss.

"It would appear so..." Justin muttered from next to her. "It's so...odd."

"Odd?" Anthony furrowed his brows and gave Justin a _look._

Justin shrugged:

"Not in a two guys kind of odd, just...these two specific guys kind of odd. The Savior of the Wizarding World and....a Death Eater."

_Oh that was it!_

"Ron, feel free to write me up for what I'm about to do." Was all the warning Harry gave before he fired a non-verbal jarring Stinger right at Justin's crotch, aiming for the balls.

Harry had impeccable aim.

Justin collapsed on the ground, crying out in severe pain and for a discombobulated moment, no one realized the fuck happened.

"Not to say he didn't have it coming, because he absolutely did, but that was cruel, even by my standards." Draco muttered into Harry's hair, holding him tighter than earlier.

Harry shrugged, and gave zero fucks:

"I got one to my face from him, he got one to his balls from me. Fair's fair."

"Damn, I can't disagree with that." Draco lamented under his breath.

"Exactly." Harry nodded with a satisfied smile.

Yes, it was true that Harry couldn't quite tell how he'd become a nanny for a Veela, but he'd come to realize that he most definitely could and would and simply just plain _wanted_ to live with it, as long as that Veela was Draco Malfoy.

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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